Punching Your Face
by Dancing Feather
Summary: Writing challenge: Each chapter has to carry the same theme. John does something to Gabriel's face. And it's not romantic in any form. Can you guess what it is? :hiatus:
1. Carnival

Watch out, I'm one of those people who is a fan of the comic and still enjoyed the horribly inaccurate movie. Despite this no, I don't have anything against Gabriel. I think he/she/it is an awesome character.

* * *

**Act 1 Scene 1: Carnival**

"Oh my goodness! I have never felt like that before!"

John groaned again, this was not his day. Not that many days had ever tried to be kind to the worn man. He had to admit, there were the days were 'you learn something new' and then some that were actually fairly impressive. It was hard to match a feeling like breathing through your lungs as if you had never smoked in your life.

But he was starting to think he missed out on something from not dying when the stupid blond bastard kept following him around pointing out everyday things that he knows the angel has seen, but was acting as if it were all sugar coated with Christmas lights. _'My God,' _he thought with distaste,_ 'I don't want to be anywhere near him when Christmas rears it's ugly head.'_

When he noticed a Skin-walker walked right into a full-blown carnival Constantine decided to follow right after, thinking he could lose the tart in the crowd.

"I mean, I have seen more things and done more terrifying things but that was fun! What was it's name? Roller, rooler, raller coaster?"

But he was wrong.

He would walk by all the annoying events hoping that Gabriel would find interest in trying yet another thing he had never done before (as a human) and stay there. But like magnets, they would always click back together.

"This has been fascinating John!" she/he/it said between bites of cotton candy, "I can't wait to see where you take me next!" Waiting for a reply but not expecting any, Gabriel jumped when John acted like he was listening, but it turned out to be a falsity when turned around and shoved a smoke bomb into his free hand.

"Stay here and be useful dammit," he growled, "when I give the signal, throw this into that tent." as he proceeded to walk into said tent.

"But John, whatever for?" Gabriel cried out, but got no response. So he/she/it proceeded to finish the pink cloud on a stick.

Inside the tent, John heard the restricted thrashes of a small girl bound and gagged. Hiding behind the brightly colored elephant stands he waited for the Skin-walker to enter in and finish the girl off. He knew it would be soon that the creature's flesh would decay beyond functioning correctly and would eventually need a new body. He hoped it would be soon...

But he was wrong.

Finally, as if God decided to stop screwing with Constantine for today, the creature appeared. It looked like it just recently enjoyed a hot dog as ketchup and relish pieces flecked on the dead man's face and shirt. _'Ugh, relish is fucking disgusting...'_ sneered John, as if that had any importance to the plot. He steadied his gun, hoping to only spare one bullet, he aimed between the eyes.

"Say hello to Lucifer for me," he whispered under his breath as he began to squeeze the trigger.

"John, I've been waiting outside for a very long time. What was it that you wanted me to do with this thing?"

Startled, the bullet flew past the head and made a hole on the top flap. The hole in the celling made it easier to hear the screams outside.

"God damn it Gabriel!" Constantine yanked the bomb away from him and threw it as the hissing beast who started to create a dark shield. The smoke quickly filled the small tent. "Go get the girl!" He shouted as the dead body began to shrink and shrivel as the black ooze of a creature crawled out of it's mouth. "Bullets are no good now," he mumbled to himself and he fidgeted with the objects in his pockets, "where is- Here!" pulling out a small leather bag, he pulled the string and let it's green powder fall on the pudding-like creature. It's plasma shell broken, it gushed in a more natural water form and began to sink into the dry dirt under his feet. "About damned time." he sighed and turned back to see Gabriel staring blankly back at him.

"Where's the girl?"

"What girl?" John fought the urge to roll his eyes,

"The girl I asked you to save."

"Oh! I untied her and she left." he/she/it smiled as she/it/he shrugged.

"You let her leave." John narrowed his eyes.

"She wanted to go really badly, why should I have stopped her?" the sound of sirens began to swallow what noise was left of the screaming outside.

"She had no idea what she just witnessed," he took in a deep breath, "and you just let her go."

"I have no right to tell her what she saw, in God's will the human must make their own interpreta-" Gabriel was forced to stop talking when a fist collided with his/her/it's nose. Making only a small grunt, it/he/she landed on the muddy ground with a much larger slash. Massaging his hand, John made for the exit. He wanted to leave before the cops decided to question people. He thought it was best to leave the scene of the crime,

"I hope you enjoyed your time at the carnival asshole."

But he was wrong.

* * *

To those new to my stuff, if you see a spelling or grammatical error, please feel free to correct me. I won't be mad, honest.


	2. Apartments

**Act 1 Scene 2: Apartments**

Constantine's next attempt to get rid of the ex-archangel was also a disaster. Sick of seeing a bright cheery face constantly breaking into his apartment for sleep, John tried getting Gabriel one of his own cots.

"How very thoughtful of you, Constantine. Your good deeds continue to grow faster by the day!"

"Just shut up."

He didn't care if he even left him/it/her in Fawlty Towers, but no one would except her/it/him. Which John would understand, knowing if he owned a hotel he wouldn't rent a room to Gabriel if he/she/it were the last paying costumer on Earth. Speaking of which, Gabriel didn't have a job. Which most hotels don't like hearing in the first place.

"Oh! How about that one?"

"That's a four star."

"So?"

"So shut up."

You might think a one star hotel might take someone like Gabriel, but everyone in the one star business knew Constantine too. It's not that they don't respect the man, if a specter or a poltergeist came in, he would be at the top of their lists to hire. But even if there were some who would take jobless individuals, they wouldn't take someone who had any dealings with John Constantine. As frustrating as that was, Constantine though that was smart on their part. He wasn't very reliable on paying his own rent either, let alone for someone he loathed.

"Was that a cockroach?"

"Maybe."

"I don't want to stay in a place that has cockroaches!"

"Guess what, Gabriel?"

"What?"

"Shut up."

Plus there were Constantine's continually growing list of enemies that would not only like to destroy him, but the vicinity around him. And that's bad for businesses.

"Gerald please, do it for me." John pressed his hands against the counter, trying to look as sincere as possible to the man behind the desk.

"You never call me Gerald." the large man dumped the ash of his cigar on Constantine's left hand. "Sorry, but no can do John."

"I'm not as bad as I look, you know." Gabriel stepped in, "I can help clean, which you can see, you really need. This place is filth-"

"Gabriel, you are as bad as you look. SHUT UP."

Constantine has been good about not making friends. Since they tend to die and all he figured it would be better if he never met anyone he liked. However, with this blond constantly on his tail, he wondered why none of the bad guys have tried taking him out. Was it because he was once an angel and still thought he was dangerous? John highly doubted that, because any free roaming demon he knew would take any chance to take out an angel if they saw the opportunity, which this definitely was.

"John, I'm hungry."

"We just ate."

"No we didn't, we only had a cup of coffee each."

"Who's money are we spending?"

"Yours?"

"Yes. Now shut up."

But after awhile, John suspected the reason why none of the monsters have bothered going after Gabriel was because they realize that he was no friend of Constantine, and he was causing him grief._ 'I can just picture it now,' _John groaned, _'tons of demons sitting on lawn chairs pointing and laughing at me.'_

"Coffee isn't a sufficient nutritional breakfast element for human bodies!" Gabriel continue to whine down the sidewalk, and John could feel the count of onlookers growing. "I've read in a triangle that there are needs we need to fill, we need grain, fruit, meat-" Constantine stopped and swung his fist into the man/woman/it behind him, clogging him in the left temple causing it/her/he to fall to the cement.

"I said shut up, dammit!"

It was an assumption, but he would be right.


	3. Arrangement

If I don't stop, the he/she/it jokes will go very bland. But since Gabriel was an angle, and therefore no gender, and this Language doesn't have a gender neutral equivalent instead of the very rude sounding 'it', I'll just be switching to whatever is appropriate at the time.

* * *

**Scene 3: Arrangement**

Constantine's situation hasn't improved much since the last two chapters, the blond tart now lived in his apartment, for what seems to be permanent for the time being. He wasn't helping the transition either, constantly rearranging things in the room. It wasn't bad at first. His books were organized for the first time since... uh, never. Furniture was dusted and kitchen was cleaned. It didn't take forever to find the right book on witchcraft to look up a certain fact. It cut time in half. So that was okay.

But after the third day, books were not the only thing moving around the place. Constantine fell on his face one night walking into a chair that wasn't supposed to be there.

"Fuck dammit, shit." he hissed to the floor.

In the morning he woke up to the smell of coffee. Stumbling into the small kitchen, Gabriel handed him a large mug of the dark liquid. After taking a few sips, he decided that maybe he would yell at the ex-angel later. After all there were more important things to get pissed about. Like Gabriel's lack of a job. He could only sneak the moron past the manager of the building for so long. And when the man found out, he was going to make the rent cost extra.

"Here." He handed the bright and happy one the newspaper. "Find a job." _'before I find you one.' _he added mentally. Of course Gabriel didn't hear it, but he definitely sensed the unease John was trying to give him as he took the paper.

"How does one exactly find a job in the newspaper, John?" He asked softly as he opened the paper and scanned the headlines, John ignored the fact that he was holding it upside down.

"You find an advertisement asking for help," he tapped at the wanted ads, "take whatever one is to your fancy and either call or follow the damn address." Constantine thought that was straight forward enough for Gabriel as he left the kitchen. "Now I have to go save some morons that pissed of an environmentally aware ghost and purify another haunted room." Just before he closed the door he added, "Don't get into trouble."

"O-key doe-key."

Later Constantine would realize that maybe he should've emphasized that further. But before that, he had to get his monthly deposit. The ghost was no trouble as to be expected, but the living humans were something else. Constantine knew better than to start smoking again, but sometimes he missed the fun details of having them. Like jabbing the butt into the eyes of those that pissed him off.

"Is it so hard not to cut this tree?" He asked one of the boys, "It isn't even on your property."

"Fuck that man, we do what we want." The boy rolled his eyes picking up the chainsaw again.

"Help yourself." Constantine said sarcastically, tossing his hands in the air in mock retreat. Just before leaving however, he pulled off a thickly inked paper which removed the ghost barrier. "Have fun," he whispered into the wind that suddenly picked up.

"Oh my mother fucking god! Shit! Shiiit!" Screamed the teens as the ghost took off with the chainsaw.

"Ah, karma." Constantine smirked. His next job was in a gambling house. Those jobs were annoying but were easily favorable due to how easy they were, how common they are, and the pay. Mainly it was the pay that made those jobs a favorite. Talking to the owner was annoying, dealing with the rich victims was annoying, the petrifactions were boring, but the money was _nice_.

"Hell yea." He muttered as he counted the cash. It was all good in the neighborhood.

"Excuse me, Mr. Constantine sir?" The owner asked nervously.

"What?" He glared over the green.

"Well, the agreement was five thousand, but that was if there was no damage."

"So?"

"There is quite a lot of damage in the blackjack room."

"And?"

"We will have to cut your pay..."

"Shit hell no!"

Returning with less than half that amount which would be cut in half against due to rent and food, Constantine wasn't in the mood for more issues. But he was Constantine, and issues flocked to him like dogs to a bitch in heat. Needless to say, it was annoying how trouble naturally wrapped itself around him.

"I'm home moron," he dropped his coat on the floor, "did you find a job?"

He was greeted with silence.

"Gabriel?"

Again.

"Fuck dammit," he pulled his coat up again, "he could be anywhere..."

The sun was setting as he walked the streets again. The occasional passing taxi reminding him of something he didn't have anymore. As another memory stared creeping into his conscious his fingers started to go into the motion of pulling out a cigarette. He quickly smothered the thought by jamming his hands into his pockets.

_'After all what I've done for the bastard... Even after ripping me off, he still feels the need to piss me off.' _He forced himself to keep looking ahead or in the alleyways for a shining blond. He had strange company before. Hell, he has had his share of killing innocent people. Human and otherworldly creatures alike. Another taxi, and Constantine hissed.

_'He is not replacing him. He is not-'_

"Oh! Hello, John!" Snapping back to reality, he realize who was standing at the bus stop. "I'm really sorry I didn't come home earlier, but I got lost-" There were a few gasps that came from the fellow bus waiters as John knocked Gabriel to the ground. Rubbing his jaw, he sighed. "John, what was that for?"

Clenching his fist, he readied himself to hit the blond again. He dare ask why? As he was about to strike, his muscles froze when his eyes recognized that Gabriel wasn't in normal attire. "What..." He pulled back, "are you wearing?"

"What?" Gabriel gave a curious look before looking down on himself. "Oh, this?" He poked at some of the frills before straighting out the skirt. "I tried to get a job at one of the bars, and I thought I would dress up for the interview."

"Really." John covered his eyes with a hand.

"But they didn't accept me." Gabriel sighed.

"I wonder why." He groaned.

"I know!"

"That was sarcasm."

Constantine knew he had a lot of rumors following him around. It came with his job. And he frankly didn't care when someone thought he sold his soul to the devil or drank blood with vampires. It's not his fault they were stupid. But even with that sort of self-reassurance, he didn't want to know what stories would be inspired by those who witnessed him taking a young looking, feminine male (or boyish female) in a French maid outfit to his apartment.

He didn't want to know.

"Where are your normal clothes?"

"I traded them with the woman who gave me this."

He _really_ didn't want to know.

Today felt longer than it should, and Constantine was glad it was over. Sure he didn't get all the cash he thought he was going to rake in, but it was better than having to end up paying the place he was hired to help in the first place. Sure the asshole sleeping at his place didn't have a job, but at least he didn't lose the bastard.

Making a mental note to prevent his nose from future breakup, he moved the coffee table to it's appropriate location, by the couch. _'Where it belongs.' _He glared at Gabriel's back. He felt this night would go by nicely.

In the middle of the night, John felt the urge to go to the bathroom. One could say he was surprised when making his way there, he tripped over the couch.

"Mother fucking shit fucker." he said to the floor once again.

Gabriel still wasn't helping pay the bill, and he was certainly not helping ease his existence.

_'That settles it, she's leaving the next fucking morning.'_


End file.
